


When Dreams Become Reality

by mollieblack



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-23 02:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13777842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollieblack/pseuds/mollieblack
Summary: When Dan first found that he could go into peoples' dreams, he immediately worked his way down his list of celebrity idols.What happens when he decides to travel into his own best friend's subconscious and finds out there's a big secret Phil's been keeping from him?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry - I try really hard not to have multiple works happening at once, but I've been hitting writer's block lately so I'm taking a little break from my Omegaverse fic "The Perfect Match" to work on this one and hopefully get over this block :) Hope you guys enjoy! <3

I don’t know why or how it started. All my life I’d been normal - I’d go about my day and then fall asleep - sometimes I’d have dreams I’d remember in the morning, sometimes I wouldn’t. I’d never payed much mind to dreams. You’d think that if the universe was gonna choose someone for this, it wouldn’t have been me. But here I am. 

 

A month ago was the first time it happened. I’d been slowly drifting to sleep like any other night, and then suddenly I’d been in a blank expanse of a room with floating pictures of people’s faces - almost like mugshots - surrounding me. I hadn’t known what was happening and I’d spent a long time looking through them - none seemed too familiar, but then I’d found a search bar floating above the expanse of pictures. I’d done what any sane person would do and immediately typed in Kanye West. Don’t judge me, I am who I am. 

 

When the mug shot I’d been looking for came up I frowned and pressed it. It lit up blue and pushed back from the force of my finger, and then suddenly my world had gone white before I was snapped into a new world - everything had been dull - almost like it was underwater at first. But after a few seconds I’d become adjusted and my eyes went wide when I saw the bedroom I was in - two people - no…  _ three  _ people wrapped in the sheets of a king-sized bed with extravagant pillows. My eyes snapped wide and I whipped around, knowing I wasn’t supposed to be seeing that. But I’d seen enough. I’d seen enough to recognize the face of the man whose music I listened to daily. 

 

After that I’d hurriedly left the room and wandered for a while until everything faded and I was waking up in my normal bed at my normal time, but that had  _ not  _ been a normal dream. I remembered every second of it. It wasn’t muddy like dreams usually were - it was like a normal real-life memory, and I didn’t know what was happening. 

 

The next night the same had happened, and then the next, and every night since then. It didn’t take me long to realize that I was being transported into peoples’ dreams each night when I chose them from the list of pictures, and I hurriedly made my way through all my celebrity idols and even some old bullies from secondary school, curious as to what their subconsciouses could conjure up. 

 

More often than not it was terrifying. Or at least confusing as hell. I found quickly that I had near limitless power in these worlds. Well - I couldn’t affect the dream itself, but I could fly, breathe underwater, I was indestructible, and if I wanted I learned how to fade myself out from a dream and wake back up in the real world. 

 

I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my best friend. Yeah, he was more likely to believe me than anyone else and he was more fantastical than most people on this earth, but even he would think I was crazy if I tried to explain this. So I kept it to myself - my nights becoming filled with adventures and horror and sex and confusion. 

 

It took me a month before I gave myself permission to jack off during Evan Peters’ sex dream. It felt weird - invasive - but he was wrapped up in his own world and I was hiding behind a door, peeking out around it. It was mostly the noises that I got off to, and from there it was just a downhill slide. 

 

I did have to be careful, though. The people dreaming could see me, and I had to be aware of that. As much as the idea of jumping into Jennifer Lawrence’s dreams and seeing if she even remembered me from our interview - having her wake up and think of me sounded exciting, I knew I had to be careful. If suddenly all these celebrities were having dreams with me in them, and even  _ one  _ mentioned it, others would join and it could get out of control. So I stayed hidden most of the time, exploring the horror that is someone’s unbridled subconscious. 

 

The strangest ones were the lucid dreamers. The ones who could control the environment around them and who found me quickly, having real conversations with me that never failed to scare the living shit out of me. They were exciting - more real feeling - but generally I’d make myself fade out of the dream pretty quick to keep them from any suspicions. 

 

My regular life hasn’t suffered, thank god. I mean, aside from maybe being a little more spacey than usual, I’ve been able to get everything done that I usually would. I spend time with Phil and we watch animes and home renovation shows, I cook and he cleans and we both rage over Mario Kart and work our best to get fun and exciting content out to our fans. I may obsess a little less vocally over my favorite celebrities, but just because now they feel more human to me - more real now that I’ve been inside their heads. 

 

The best was the other day when Obama was doing an interview and mentioned a dream he had about spiders eating his family and pets. I nearly fell out of my chair because  _ I’d been there! _ If I hadn’t thought I knew already that these were peoples’ real dreams, I knew then. 

 

Today is just a normal day - it’s a Friday and it’s the day Phil and I have designated as our weekend. We try to do it every week - choose one day (and it’s always a different one) that will be our day where we’re not  _ allowed  _ to do any work. No filming, no scripting, no editing. A short tweet at most, but that’s  _ it.  _ Today I’m sitting in the lounge with a bowl of cereal, Phil sipping a mug of coffee beside me as we watch the Great British Bake Off since we missed it when it aired. 

 

“Dan we should try to make a Swedish Roll.” Phil murmurs over his mug and I roll my eyes, a small chuckle escaping my lips. 

 

“If I had a nickel for every time we watched this show and you said that about whatever they’re cooking…” I muse, flinching away from Phil’s hand as it lazily comes over to smack my shoulder. My cereal shifts and almost spills and my eyes go wide, glaring at Phil to show him what he’d almost done. He makes a hissing sound as he cringes and mouths ‘sorry’ and I laugh, going back to my breakfast. “Also, you  _ know  _ we’d fuck it up.”

 

“Hey! I’m a good baker! Just because what I make isn’t always pretty doesn’t mean it’s not good!” 

 

“That  _ is _ true.” I concede. “You do have an incredible talent for making delicious food that looks shit.”

 

“Better than the other way around.” Phil decides with a shrug and I smile, turning my attention back to the TV. 

 

“I guess.” I sigh and Phil rolls his eyes then holds his hands up, looking at them before putting them back down. I frown but decide not to question it - Phil has several quirks - if I questioned every single one the conversation would never end. 

 

We watch the show and then split off to do our own things - I want to watch Riverdale but it’d gotten to be a bit too much for Phil recently and he’s more in a video game mood so I go to my room and pull the show up on my laptop, knowing that I’ll have to re-watch it with Phil when he inevitably regrets giving up on the show but doesn’t want to watch it alone because he needs someone to keep him from getting distracted by his phone. 

 

I watch two episodes and then close my laptop with a sigh. I’m tired and almost want to take a nap - naps are fun because then I can dream-hop into someone in a different time zone, but I decide to first check on Phil and see what he’s doing. 

 

He isn’t at the TV so he must have given up video games. I go to his room and knock quietly. There’s no response but the door’s shut, so he  _ must  _ be in there - he always keeps it open when he’s not in the room. I put my ear against the door and huff out a soft laugh as I hear gentle snores. Well… if he’s going to take a nap, I may as well too. 

 

I head upstairs and shut my door behind me, crawling into my bed and pulling the duvet up to my chin. As I shut my eyes I begin wondering whose dreams I should visit today. As my mind flicks through all the American celebrities I can dream up, a name suddenly infiltrates my mind. 

 

Phil.

 

All this time - all these dreams, and not once have I visited my own best friend’s subconscious. The thought draws me up short and I stall, suddenly unsure of how acceptable this is. Phil is my best friend. Is it an invasion of his privacy for me to look into his dreams? Would he look at mine if he could do this? The thought is surprisingly tempting, but after warring in my mind I finally decide that it’s not a good idea and drift to sleep with the resolve to choose someone else. 

 

I don’t know how I got here, with Phil’s name in the search bar and a picture of him floating in front of my face. I’d chosen not to - I’d meant not to, but when that search bar had showed up I wasn’t able to help myself. I shouldn’t press it. I know I shouldn’t. Maybe the regret and guilt at least make it a little less horrible when I press the button? Probably not, but still… I do it. 

 

I’m surprised when I find myself simply on the couch of our lounge, Phil sitting beside me. He’s frowning and staring at his hands intently and I watch as he flips them palm up and then down, inspecting them closely. Suddenly he reaches his right hand over and pinches his left wrist then grins, looking up and over at me. 

 

“I’m dreaming!” 

 

“Huh?”

 

“I’m dreaming! I did it! I read somewhere that if you make it a habit to look at your hands and think about dreaming, then someday in a dream you’ll look at your hands and wonder why and then realize it’s a dream and it can help you lucid dream! Dan! I did it!” 

 

“Oh!” I exclaim, eyes wide. Shit - I really should get out of here. Not only is it Phil, but he’s lucid dreaming. This has danger written all over it. Still, something keeps me there - curious as to what he’ll do. I’ve always thought that Phil would get too obsessed with any power if he had it, and lucid dreaming was sort of like being god. This could get interesting. 

 

“Oh… holy shit.” Phil suddenly whispers and my gaze snaps up to him, an eyebrow raised. 

 

“What?” I ask, trying to keep my expression neutral as my heart races from the way he’s looking at me - does he know? How could he know it’s me?

 

“I…” Phil gulps and suddenly his cheeks flush, looking down at his fingers that he wrings together carefully. “I mean… why not, I guess. Right? Yeah. I should do it. Can’t fucking work up the courage to in real life, might as well do it now. Maybe it’ll even help - maybe I’ll finally be able to do it for real.”

 

“Phil what are you talking about?” I ask, completely lost and terrified that he knows somehow. 

 

“I…” Phil mumbles and then he’s scooting forward, looking at me almost like I’m some rare and exotic colorful bird that he’s trying to not scare away, but wants a closer look at. I stiffen but stay still, waiting to see what on earth he’s on about. “Fuck, Dan…” Phil mumbles and my eyes widen a hair - that’s the third time he’s sworn in less than a minute, and even though he’s certainly not as clean-mouthed as most of the world expects him to be off camera, he’s still not usually that liberal with expletives. 

 

Somehow this train of thought enwraps my mind so much that I don’t realize as Phil’s leaning in, eyes only widening and snapping back to his face when it’s only an inch away. I freeze - terror shooting through me as I see Phil lick his lips and then his hands are around my neck pulling me to him and…

 

Fuck. What the?

 

Phil Lester is kissing me. 

 

Phil - my best friend - my flatmate - the guy I’ve shared years of jokes with about how everyone thinks we’re together and how ridiculous it is - how neither of us has any interest in the other - that friend is now lucid dreaming and the first thing he thought to do was kiss me. 

 

Fucking shit hell god damn… my mind is working on overdrive but my body reacts of its own accord, hands slowly going to Phil’s hips as my mouth gently moves back against his. 

 

Hey - don’t judge me, what the fuck else am I supposed to do? He’s lucid dreaming - whatever you want to happen in a lucid dream happens - if I randomly pull away he’s gonna know something’s up. So I kiss back, my mind screaming at me. 

 

This is wrong, wrong,  _ wrong, wrong, wrong.  _

 

What the hell am I gonna do?

 


	2. Chapter 2

It doesn’t take long before Phil pulls back, wide-eyed and breathless with a smile that sends a dagger of guilt through my heart, stretching from cheek to cheek with more pure happiness than I’ve seen him possess in… well, I don’t even know how long. 

 

“It feels so real.” Phil gasps and my heart twists in my chest as I stare at my best friend, opting to say nothing, and wondering how the hell I can get out of this situation. A moment later, though, it seems as if I don’t have time to sit and think, as Phil rushes back in for another kiss, grasping at my arms desperately as he begins to lean backward. He’s pulling me on top of him and soon we’re laying down and I’m regretfully kissing him back, unable to even think of how it feels and simply overwhelmed by the confusion and guilt clouding my thoughts. 

 

When Phil’s hips lift up into mine, though, my eyes pop open wide and I don’t even have the time to make a conscious decision before I’m fading out, shooting up to sitting in my bed, hair matted to my sweaty forehead as I gasp for air. 

 

What the hell was that? What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Phil likes me? Phil wants me to… wants us to… but we’ve joked about it so much! About how the fans ship us, and about how neither of us have ever liked the other, and  _ will  _ never like the other! Had he just been lying? The air whooshes out of me as I realize how much of a dick I must have been to him, laughing at the possibility if my suspicions are true and he has been hiding feelings from me. I can’t really see another possibility after what’s just happened. 

 

I need water, and even though the idea of venturing outside of this room and possibly running into my flatmate is terrifying, the dryness in my mouth is stronger. I’ll have to face him eventually, anyways. I crawl out of bed and change my t-shirt - this one is soaked through with sweat - and make my way downstairs. Luckily Phil’s bedroom door is still shut and I don’t hear anything from the other side - maybe he’s still asleep. Maybe his dream conjured up a fake dream Dan… or would it be a real dream Dan? A not  _ me _ Dan and he didn’t even notice! That’s all I can hope for - though the idea of where that dream may have gone if it continued makes my face and neck heat up. It’s not my place to judge Phil’s subconscious, though. It’s something I never should have seen. Never, ever,  _ ever.  _ But I broke that, and now there’s no going back. 

 

I pour myself a glass of water and add a few ice cubes, needing something to cool the blush heating up my entire chest, neck, and face. I’m hungry as well and put a frozen pizza in the oven, downing my water and re-filling it. 

 

Just as the pizza is nearing completion, my entire body goes rigid as I hear a door open and close. I barely have a moment to try and compose myself, brushing my hair up and trying to hide all signs of how flustered I am before Phil wanders into the kitchen. He’s in sweats and his ‘pugs not drugs’ jumper, glasses resting on his nose and hair pushed up into a quiff. His eyes look sleepy and he yawns, giving me a small smile before walking past me to get a bag of popcorn, throwing it in the microwave. 

 

“Looks like we’re on the same eating schedule.” Phil chuckled and I forced a tight smile, nodding. 

 

“Yeah… just uh… was watching Riverdale. Got hungry.”

 

“Right. How was it? Actually no - don’t tell me. I might actually want to start watching it again… I don’t know.”

 

“Yeah uh… it was good I guess. But yeah, no spoilers.” I mumble, amazed at how awkward I feel. Phil is being completely normal, pouring himself a glass of ribena and barely even looking my way as he goes about his day, interacting as we usually do. I can’t fall into that, though, and find myself tense against the counter, my glass held too-tight in my hand as I try to remember what a normal breathing pattern is like. 

 

“So I know it’s our weekend day… but I’m thinking of doing a liveshow tonight. I don’t know - I just haven’t in a while, and I’m feeling a little antsy. Give the fans something extra, right? I was wondering if you might want to join? It’s been a while since we’ve done a joint liveshow.”

 

“Um… yeah, sure.” The minute the words are out of my mouth I regret them. Why did I agree? I’m just trying to act normal and my immediate instinct was to agree with whatever Phil says, but now we have to do a liveshow tonight and I’m feeling so incredibly not-myself. The fans will know. They always know. They’ll pick up on the slightest things… fuck. 

 

“Cool. What are you doing until then? I was playing Mario Kart earlier, but got bored by myself. Wanna have a match before going live?”

 

“Um… yeah, sure.” I mumble dumbly.

 

“Earth to Dan? Got any other vocabulary in that head of yours?” Phil raises an eyebrow, smirking, and I blush, shuffling my feet. 

 

“Right. Yeah, sorry. Let’s do it.”

 

“Cool. I think your pizza is done.” Phil says as he pulls his popcorn out of the microwave, shaking it and ripping it open. The steam that comes out of the bag fogs up his glasses and he frowns, putting the bag down so he can take his glasses off and wipe them on his jumper. 

 

I snap into action at the mention of the pizza and nod, opening the oven and moving the pizza onto a plate, cutting it into four sections. 

 

Soon we’re upstairs and three matches in, and things are almost feeling normal. Phil’s certainly not acting any different. I don’t know if that comforts me or not. On one hand, it’s not as if he’s suddenly a new person. He’s still my best friend. Still the guy I share my life with. Still my  _ Phil.  _ On the other hand… if he’s acting so normal… I don’t even want to think about it, but my brain supplies me with the answer. ‘It’s not uncommon - it’s something he’s thought about before - he likes you and has for a long time, and you’ve just been too oblivious to notice’. I shut it down quickly, focusing on hitting Peach with my green shell. 

 

The time for the liveshow sneaks up on us, and I’m incredibly grateful for my body’s immediate knowledge of how to be ‘Daniel Howell - youtuber’. A smile comes to my face and I go on autopilot, reading the chat and banting with Phil. And maybe I notice how he’s leaning in towards my shoulder a bit more, and maybe I’m hyper-aware of how my skin’s tingling, hairs standing on edge whenever he comes near, but I keep the smile on my face and refuse to let anyone in on the fact that I’m having a complete and total panic attack. 

 

The minute we shut off the liveshow Phil smiles and turns to me but I just sigh, leaning forward and putting my head in my hands. 

 

“You alright?” Phil asks, concern laced in his tone, and my heart twists in pain and guilt. 

 

“Yeah… I’m fine. Just got a bit of a headache is all.” It’s not a lie. My head is pounding. 

 

“Lay down, close your eyes, I’ll be right back.” Phil instructs. I frown but do as he said, swinging my legs up on the couch and laying against the pillow. Soon Phil’s returning and draping a blanket over me, coaxing me into swallowing iboprofen tablets and a whole glass of water. He even brings me a cookie to help with the tablets and I smile gratefully. He gets a damp washcloth and lays it over my forehead and turns off all the lights. 

 

“Now get some rest and if you so much as  _ think  _ about taking out your phone I’ll have to confiscate it. Got it, Howell?”

 

“Yeah.” My voice comes out breathier than I’d expected and I blush - Phil’s done this before. I always call him ‘Mama Lester’ - he likes to take care of people. But now… now I wonder if it’s not so much ‘people’ as it is me… the thought makes me wince at how vain it sounds, but suddenly I can’t help wondering Phil’s motivations behind all his actions and it makes guilt bubble in my chest as he brings in my favorite pillow from my room, lifting my head to put it underneath. 

 

“Goodnight - take the other tablet if it still hurts in half an hour.” He indicates another tablet on the counter by the glass he’d filled back up, a new cookie laying beside it. 

 

“Can I just have the cookie by itself?”

 

“Not until you’ve waited to see if the painkillers work. Okay?”

 

“Okay.” I try to groan, but it comes out small and short, and I blush. 

 

“Feel better.”

 

“Yeah. Thanks, Phil.”

 

I watch as he sends me a small smile and goes to his room, returning with a book and settling into the cozy chair on the other side of the room. 

 

“I’m right here if you need anything. Sleep.”

  
I didn’t even think I’m tired but as I close my eyes and feel the comfort of everything Phil’s set up for me, the exhaustion of my mind from the past few hours takes over and I slip into sleep. When I’m presented with the array of photos, I do something I’ve never done before. I type into the search bar ‘ **Daniel Howell** ’. When my own picture pops up I sigh with relief and press it, and everything goes blissfully black. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys, so sorry once again that I've been so absent. I probably will continue to be for a while - midterms at uni are kicking my ass, and I just need to pull back from writing a bit, but don't worry I'm not gone altogether :) Hope you enjoy this chapter <3

When I wake up I don’t know how long has passed, but it seems to be the middle of the night. My eyes flit to the armchair and I feel myself soften as I see my best friend, glasses askew on the bridge of his nose and book laying open in his lap, lips parted in sleep with a fuzzy blanket wrapped around him. I slowly peel the damp washcloth off my forehead and get up, quietly making my way to the laundry room to throw it in there. When I return I go up to Phil and look down, trying to gauge the best way to do this. 

 

His eyelids are twitching - good, he’s in the middle of a dream, hopefully this won’t wake him. I lean down and gently work my arms under his body until I can pull him up and off the couch, carrying him bridal style. A few times he makes little noises or shifts a bit, but he never wakes and I smile as the muscles in my arms strain to carry him slowly back to his room. When we get in I make my way to the bed and lay him down carefully. His arms come up and wrap around me, trying to hold me in place and my eyebrows raise, a soft chuckle escaping my lips. 

 

“Philly, you awake?” I whisper, not entirely sure if this is just him moving in his sleep or if he’s drifting back to the world of the conscious. 

 

“Mmmnng.” Is the only reply I get, and after a few more tries I determine that he is, in fact, still asleep. I slowly pull out of his grasp and gently lay the duvet over him. With one last glance I remember his glasses and gingerly work them off of him, folding them and putting them on his nightstand. 

 

“Goodnight, Philly. Sweet dreams.”

 

I tip toe out of the room and back to my own, laying down in bed, and immediately I’m asleep. 

 

I don’t know what brings me to press on Phil’s picture again. Maybe because now it’s in the first slide of faces that show up, and I swear it’s brighter than the others, just  _ asking  _ for me to press it. I know it’s not a good idea, but I do it anyway, and soon I find myself… in a pool?

 

There’s solid and smooth concrete below my feet and I’m outside - I’m in a pool, and up to my chest in… syrup? I know it  _ should  _ be disgusting, but somehow the scent smells nothing short of incredible, and it’s easy to move through. I lift an arm out of it and find no sticky residue, raising my eyebrows in surprise and approval of Phil’s dreamscape. 

 

It doesn’t take long for Phil himself to surface, a waffle in his teeth, dripping of the syrup mixed with some butter. The sky around us is a perfect light blue with fluffy white clouds and Phil grins as he makes his way over to me. When he gets there he takes the waffle out of his mouth and pushes it towards me. My eyes widen as I get fed a bite of waffle - and  _ damn  _ that’s delicious. 

 

“Dan! I’m so glad you’re here!” Phil exclaims, blue eyes lighting up with sparkles. I feel my chest tighten and I give him a smile, already nervous as to what might come. It nearly scares me when the music starts playing - soft acoustic guitar, and Phil smiles as he lets the waffle drop into the syrup pool and reaches out a hand in offering. I sigh lightly before taking it, sending him a small smile that’s more nerves than excitement. When he pulls me to his chest I feel my heart jump with nerves and hesitant anticipation. All he does, though, is take my other hand and put one of his on my back before stepping carefully forward. 

 

Now in the normal world we’re both uncoordinated fucks who would laugh in your face if you asked us if we could ballroom dance. Apparently in this dream reality, though, we’re proficient dancers and suddenly we’re moving together with ease through this sea of syrup, and Phil’s forehead is resting against mine, his mouth twisted up into a smile of pure elation. 

 

When the kiss starts I feel myself freeze for a moment before gently kissing back - I hadn’t even so much decided to - it’s just instinct I suppose, and suddenly I feel light and warm tingles flowing through my body as our arms wrap tighter around another, our feet stopping their movement as we simply stand and kiss, mouths working together slowly, but sure of their paths. It surprises me when I realize how much I’m enjoying this - when I realize that I’m currently allowing my best friend of nearly nine years to kiss me. Why? Why don’t I just turn him down in a dream and maybe he’ll take it as a sign and know to start getting over me in real life. 

 

I don’t stop the kiss. I don’t turn him down. In my mind, I justify it as part of the dream. Phil dreamed that I kissed him so I did - my body automatically wants to do what his dream tells… right? A little voice is screaming at me that that’d never happened before and I’d always had full control in dreams - but I decide to shut that little voice off as Phil’s fingers twist in the hair at the nape of my neck and his tongue brushes past my lips. 

 

We’re properly snogging now and the warm tingly feeling is getting stronger - it’s almost scaring me with its intensity - my adrenaline is through the roof and I feel my body shuddering now and again with shivers running up and down my spine. Phil’s tongue is making tracks against my own, and I find myself returning the gesture. When a small whine escapes my lips I’m not even surprised. I’m enjoying this - there’s no denying that at this point. God, what have I gotten myself into?

 

Luckily the dream cuts off only a few seconds later, with Phil’s eyes going wide as suddenly he’s pulled backwards by an invisible force. Fear takes over his gaze and he calls out to me as he’s quickly dragged backwards and away from me. I try to follow but soon he’s out of sight and the world is fading out around me until I’m blinking awake in my bedroom, a small problem in my pants and a bigger one in my mind. 

 

Three minutes later finds me standing under a spray of water, my hand against the glass of the shower to brace myself. My hands aren’t making their way downwards - no, there’s no way I could do that. For so many reasons. Instead I turn the knob of the shower until my teeth are chattering and I’m sure turning blue as the icy cold water hits my back. My arms wrap around my naked torso as I shiver under the onslaught of cold, but soon enough it’s done its job and I feel the arousal leave my body, my dick softening and I sigh with relief, turning the heat back up to a nice warm torrent against my back. 

 

When I get out of the shower I dress quickly and take deep breaths, building myself up to leave the room. I’m not ready to face Phil if he’s out there. I properly enjoyed that dream, and that thought terrifies me. Phil and I are friends and that’s all. We’ve joked countless times about how people thought we were together - because of course we wouldn’t. We’d never work. We’re too similar, and anyways we’re… We’re Dan and Phil. Best friends, co-workers, flatmates… but not romantic. Never romantic. 

 

After twenty minutes of pacing I realize I’m going to have to do it  _ sometime,  _ so I hesitantly make my way out to the kitchen. The first thing I see is my best friend’s back turned towards me - grey sweatpants that hug his hips, a blue tshirt that I already know brings out his eyes, and a mop of black hair, hanging back as his head is tipped backwards, my cereal box held above his face. He’s shaking the last contents into his wide open mouth and I freeze, eyes wide. 

 

“Phiiiiil!” I whine and he turns around, cheeks flushing as he looks quickly into the box - seeming to try to find a little left to placate me with, but there must be none because he looks back up with a guilty smile. 

 

“I was hungry?” He all but asks and I sigh, shaking my head. 

 

“You’re making the next grocery run and you’re getting six boxes so there’s no  _ way  _ we run out again.” Phil nods, and we both know that no matter how many boxes we get we’ll still run out because the more we get the more he thinks it’s fine for him to eat just a little, and just a little turns into a lot, and we’re both lazy fucks who don’t go to the grocery store nearly enough. While we both know this, he still just nods and I sigh, making my way to the fridge to find something to eat. 

 

Two hours later finds us working - editing videos side by side, and I can’t help but be hyper-aware of how Phil sits close to me - how I can feel his body heat radiating into my shoulder and arm. How when he wants me to look at a piece he’s unsure about he watches my reaction instead of the video, eyes searching and then excited - warm in little upturned moons when I tell him I like it. 

 

We finish editing and upload a new gaming video. It’s my turn to respond to the twitter comments, but Phil’s looking through them beside me and turning his laptop whenever he finds a good one or thinks of a joke I could send in response. In the end I take two of his ideas, responding to quite a few before I sigh and close the laptop. 

 

We eat a late lunch together - delivery that we get from the door, eating it as we watch Riverdale. Yes, Phil convinced me to go back so he could get caught up. I tease him with fake spoilers as we watch and he rolls his eyes, bumping me with his shoulder. The action that would have seemed innocent days ago now makes me wonder if it’s prompted by his crush, and suddenly I’m blushing, tilting my face down and looking up through my lashes at the screen in an effort to hide. Phil doesn’t seem to notice - or if he does he doesn’t say anything, and soon we’ve caught him up and watched a few more before we decide to break and answer emails. 

 

The day passes this way until I make an extremely late dinner of spaghetti and we pop open a bottle of wine, because why the hell not and it’s been awhile since we’ve drank.

 

One glass in I realize wine might not be the best idea. But alcohol is a siren, and even though you know it might be a bad idea, your body begins to buzz and your only solution of how to make it better is to drink more until you don’t care any longer. So that’s exactly what I do. Phil stops at two glasses, but I don’t quit until I’ve had nearly four. My face is surely red and my whole body is tingling. I can’t stop laughing and Phil’s pretty giggly himself. He always has been a lightweight, so I can’t imagine he’s much more sober than I am right now. 

 

It doesn’t take long until our dishes are discarded in the sink to deal with tomorrow and we’re falling onto the sofa, turning on some movie I’m not paying attention to in the background. We both want to lay down but our sofa’s not nearly big enough for that, so we end up leaning on opposite arm rests as we giggle and wriggle about, trying to get more space. Phil’s arms are wrapped around my legs to keep them from falling off the couch and I’m pressed up against his ankles, pinning them to the back cushion. His feet are cold and I find myself shifting so the flat of my back holds them tight against the sofa, hopefully trapping them in warmth. His thumb is slowly brushing over my calf where my sweatpants have ridden up, and the featherlight touch sends tingles up my legs. 

 

Unfortunately we still can’t seem to manage not to nearly fall off every thirty seconds, so finally I sigh, an idea coming to my mind. 

 

“Let’s just go to my room. We can watch on my TV.”

 

Phil’s eyes go wide for half a second but then he’s nodding and we’re standing up, bringing the near-empty wine bottle and stumbling towards my room. When we get there the wine bottle gets set on the nightstand and we fall into my bed, sighing gratefully into the soft pillows, stretching out since now we can. The movie is forgotten and we just lay there, breathing slowly. Eventually I crawl under the covers and he follows - a small warning sets off in the back of my mind, but I’m a needy drunk and a cuddly one, and even though I know rationally that this is a horrible idea, my willpower is nowhere near strong enough to resist this. 

 

We lay on our sides, facing each other, and I feel shivers go through my whole body as I giggle and look away. My mind is screaming ‘DANGER!’, but I can’t stop giggling, and my nerves feel electrified, buzzing on my skin.

 

“Are you cold?” 

 

The question draws me up short and I frown, shivers racing through my body. 

 

“You’re shivering.” Phil explains and my eyes open wide in understanding. I can’t exactly say ‘No, just nervous because I really want to cuddle with you right now and I’m feeling this weird pull towards you and you’re making me feel like I’m floating, but you have a crush on me and it’s all wrong.’ So instead I just nod after a second and Phil gives me a small smile. 

 

I don’t even notice him scooching closer, his arms are just suddenly turning me around and I comply in confusion before he snakes them around my waist and pulls me backwards, flush against his body. He’s warm and I immediately relax into the soft heat of his body, shivers continuing, but less intense than before. His thumb is making those feather-light brushes again, but this time it’s on the front of my hip where my shirt’s ridden up, and every other time he does it more shivers run through my body. 

 

After a few minutes of dead silence filled only with the sound of my teeth chattering now and again, another larger shiver takes me over and Phil sighs, pulling me impossibly closer and burying his nose in the curve of my neck. I freeze for a moment before relaxing, my heart beating fast in my chest. A long silence passes and I’m almost relaxed before Phil speaks, his lips so close to my neck that I can feel the warmth of his breath, sending tingles throughout my body. 

 

“Are you tired?” His voice is low and careful and my eyes widen when I feel the sudden need to be  _ closer.  _

 

“No.” I whisper back after a second. A few moments pass and then I sigh, wriggling around to face him, my arms coming up to wrap around his neck. I don’t know what I’m doing but I just know I  _ need  _ this connection right now. His eyes are wide but unfocused, and I’m sure my own mirror that state in my drunkenness. 

 

We just look at each other - far too long to go unnoticed, and when his lips begin to quirk up in a smile I can’t help my own from mimicking. 

 

“What?” He giggles and I shrug, my own laughter chiming along with his. 

 

“I don’t know!” I laugh and he squeezes my waist. Both of our laughter stops but we continue smiling at each other, and I don’t think I could make my gaze leave his if I tried. 

 

“You’re smiling at me.”

 

“You’re smiling back.” I respond. I know this is dangerous. I know this is a horrible idea. I can’t seem to help it, though, my body pulled towards his like a magnet. 

 

“I like your smile.” He finally whispers, his own grin softening but not disappearing fully. 

 

“Thanks.” I say dumbly. 

 

When his hand slowly comes up to cup my cheek a shiver more intense than all the others combined shakes my body and he chuckles as I smile back, nerves shooting through my veins. 

 

Our lips meet slowly. He’s guided my face towards his and his lips are soft - like two gentle pillows pressing gingerly against mine. It’s not magical. It’s not life changing. It’s not electric. It’s just a kiss, and when we pull back just enough to make eye contact we both burst out laughing, rose color painting our cheeks. When we lean back in it’s both of us this time and we kiss for longer - lips moving together slowly but sure of their paths, and the shivers leave my body as I melt into him. 

 

I don’t know how long we kiss. In the state I’m in it could have been two minutes or an hour, but finally I slow it down, my thumb brushing lightly on his jaw as I pull back to smile at him. 

 

“No more - we’re drunk.” I whisper, a bit regretfully. He just smiles, though, nodding as he pulls me close. I tuck my head under his chin and work one of my legs between his, feeling warmth radiate throughout my body. 

 

That night I can’t help but choose Phil’s icon, and though we went no farther in the waking world, the same cannot be said about the dream we share. 


End file.
